


Patrick’s Garden Center  (Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)

by ohnoscarlett



Series: Farmer's Market [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Gen, Meet-Cute, farmers market AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-27
Updated: 2007-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10924008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoscarlett/pseuds/ohnoscarlett
Summary: The farmer’s market is held every Saturday from May to October.  (2339 words)





	Patrick’s Garden Center  (Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)

**Author's Note:**

>   Beta by [](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/profile)[dakotas_tale](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/)and [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[kueble](http://kueble.livejournal.com/).  Plus, this whole deal was conceived by [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[kueble](http://kueble.livejournal.com/), when she drove over to my house and saw the actual Patrick's Garden Center down the road and essentially freaked out over it.  Hee.  This is not the same Patrick, nor Patrick's Garden Center.  Please see the disclaimer.  There are so many notes for this fic, I may just post them in my journal all on their own.

**TITLE:** Patrick’s Garden Center(Farmer’s Market ‘Verse)

 **AUTHOR:** Cara ([ **ohnoscarlett**](http://ohnoscarlett.livejournal.com/) )  
**RATING:**   Gen, PG-13, some language  
**PAIRING, IF ANY:**   Really none, this time, but it's working it's way up to Pete/Patrick, and others.Heh.But there is a “metric ton of characters”, so keep your fingers crossed.

 **SUMMARY:** The farmer’s market is held every Saturday from May to October.  (2339 words)  
**DISCLAIMER:**   This is a work of fiction. _Obviously_.

 **NOTES:**   Beta by [](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/profile)[ **dakotas_tale**](http://tuesdaysgone.livejournal.com/) and [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[**kueble**](http://kueble.livejournal.com/).  Plus, this whole deal was conceived by [](http://kueble.livejournal.com/profile)[**kueble**](http://kueble.livejournal.com/), when she drove over to my house and saw the actual Patrick's Garden Center down the road and essentially freaked out over it.  Hee.  This is not the same Patrick, nor Patrick's Garden Center.  Please see the disclaimer.  There are so many notes for this fic, I may just post them in my journal all on their own.

**“PATRICK’S GARDEN CENTER”**

 

The farmer’s market is held every Saturday from May to October.It’s in the Haymarket, the old historical district downtown.Brick-paved roads and everything.People flock to it, even though there are honest-to-goodness farms not five miles away and a farmer’s market seems kind of redundant.They think it’s quaint or something.

 

Patrick has had a stand at the farmer’s market for a couple years now.Every Saturday he drags down a truckload of crap from his shop and sets up at the ass crack of dawn to essentially people watch until one o-clock, when he gets to pack it all up and take it back.It’s not that his stand does poorly.In fact, he usually does quite well, and even sees return customers at the garden center during the week.It’s just—the damn thing starts really early.  
  


Patrick usually has a spot between Joe the honey guy and Andy the organic fruit guy.It’s a good spot, near the corner, next to where the farm veggies start, and across from the ice cream place where the face painters always set up.It gets some serious action early in the morning from the hard-core market shoppers after the freshest produce available in three counties, and later on when the moms and kids are out tooling around looking for something to do.

 

So Patrick’s arranging the miniature gazing balls so they catch more sun when this guy comes into his stand.He has obviously just stopped at Joe’s because he’s sucking on one of those little honey straw things that Patrick hates.Joe asked him one time why he never takes him up on it when he offers them up, and Patrick told him that they tasted more like plastic than honey.Joe just snorted and replied, “Well, maybe you’re sucking on it wrong.”Patrick was just kind of perplexed, and wandered back to his stand to shuffle the stepping stones or something.

 

So this guy is sucking on that honey straw like it’s the best thing since…Well, _plastic honey_ , according to Patrick.Patrick finds himself smirking about it when the guy looks up with great dark eyes and catches him looking.Patrick glances down and suppresses an inexplicably furious blush creeping across his cheeks.When he looks up again, the guy is licking his fingers on one hand and wiping the others on his jeans.He’s… lovely.Almost girlish, and tiny, which is welcome in the Land of Giant Men, where Patrick is usually alone in his diminutive stature.

 

“Good morning!” chirps Patrick automatically.The guy sucks the tip of his index finger enthusiastically then grins toothily at him.Patrick is supposed to be pointing out various items in his stand, but he just stands there clutching a shiny little ball and gaping like an idiot.

 

“Morning,” the guy replies finally, still grinning.He gestures with a fistful of honey straws.“These things are awesome.Want one?”Patrick shakes his head, watching the way the guy’s mouth shines.And then the guy _licks his lips_.Patrick has to shake his head to remember his manners.Any sort of manners.

 

“No, thank you.I…”Patrick really can’t think of a good excuse.The guy grins at him again and cocks an eyebrow.

 

“’Think they taste like plastic?’” he finishes.Patrick laughs.

 

“Actually…” Patrick shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying not to blush again and rocking back on his heels. The guy barks out a laugh and selects another straw, sticking the rest in a paper bag poking out of his hoodie pocket.Patrick can see the edge of a tattoo hidden under his sleeve.

 

“Too bad, man.”The guy bites viciously at the plastic.“Like I said: these things are awesome.”

 

“Thanks, though,” Patrick says.The guy salutes him with his honey straw and disappears down the row.

 

The guy is barely out of sight in the crowd before Patrick scurries over to Joe’s honey stand.He ducks behind the table and corners Joe, who is explaining the concept of honey varieties to a pretty girl with a college sweatshirt and short shorts.Patrick fidgets.Joe finally steps back and drops down into his raggedy folding chair, sighing.

 

“I love this place,” Joe drawls lazily, closing his eyes.Patrick scowls at him.He turns and points down the row of stalls.

 

“Did you _see_ that guy?” Patrick hisses.Joe giggles— _giggles_ —at him and Patrick can practically see him considering going, _what guy?_ Jerk.As it is, Joe makes him stand there and twitch a bit before he responds.

 

“Yeah.”Patrick wants to shake him.“I totally sent him your way.Told him you were playing with your balls again.”

 

Patrick squawks.

 

Joe giggles some more.

 

“I hate you,” Patrick grumbles, and turns on his heel to return to his own stand.Joe merely continues giggling.

 

The rest of the day is average.Steady customer flow, a few transactions.Nothing major.Patrick goes over to Andy’s to pick up a pint of strawberries.Joe goes over to Andy’s to pick up a pint of strawberries.Andy comments that he bets they’re good dipped in honey.Joe’s whole face lights up and he scurries back to his stand to crack open a jar.Patrick can see the slight droop in Andy’s shoulders and feels a twinge of sympathy.Joe spends his Saturdays watching girls.Andy spends his Saturdays watching Joe.Patrick shrugs and goes back to his stand.

 

The last hour of the market, Patrick spends watching the stalls across the street.He is immediately across from the face painting, which tends to get a bit sticky this time of day.Patrick can see the pinched look on Ryan’s face as he manages a squirmy _and_ sticky-faced youngster.It makes him smile.Ryan is so obviously not cut out for the public relations part of his job.He looks like he would quite like to strap his young charge to a board to get him to hold still.

 

Ryan always sets up next to Spencer.Well, Spencer’s grandmother’s place, actually.Patrick shudders.She’s _scary_.Patrick can see where Spence gets his charming personality.That old dragon can sure get her bitch on.And so can Spence.It makes Patrick smile, because Spence is just so _pretty_ , with smooth, round cheeks, lush lips, and piercing blue eyes.But he can set a scowl for hours on end.

 

Luckily for everyone at the market, old Mrs. Smith has gotten on in years and now regularly sends Spencer to man her stand and bitch out the neighbors.They sell flowers.Dahlias, mostly.Patrick has seen the farm, and it is a veritable explosion of colors that just goes on and on.They have a little roadside stand right there at the farm where Mrs. Smith sets out arrangements done up in mason jars.Five bucks, honor system.Patrick has never ceased to be amazed that shit like that still works.But then they have their stand at the market every Saturday too, so who knows.Patrick just likes the look of Spencer among the blooms.

 

The boys next to Spencer are… quite a pair.Patrick swears that Jon and Brendon spill or eat more chocolate than they must sell.Jon is an actual trained—what the hell do you call that, anyway?Pastry chef?Chocolatier?Whatever, the guy spent a couple years in France, came home, and set up shop downtown.For market day he brings out truffles and chocolate dipped fruit. And his buddy, Brendon.He doesn’t work at the store with Jon, he just likes to come down and “help” at his stand.Patrick doesn’t know what that guy does the rest of the week, but seriously, sugar is the last thing he needs in his system.By the end of the day, Jon and Brendon are usually covered in chocolate, and there is often a spattering of it on the pavement in front of them.You really want to stay as far away as possible if Brendon has gotten into the chocolate covered espresso beans.Those things are really good, though, so Patrick doesn’t really blame him.

 

The extent of Patrick’s view generally ends at the woolery.Apparently Vicky and Greta keep llamas.Patrick does not truck with farm animals.Cows freak him right the fuck out, and llamas _spit_.They may be a good investment, but he’ll just keep his garden center, thanks.

 

He doesn’t know how those girls do it.It’s just too hot in the summer to be messing around with wool.Joe’s opinion is that they manage due to the breeze blowing up their skirts.He keeps a sharp eye out for that.Vicky and Greta are a treat for the leg men.Most days you can see one of them sitting at a spinning wheel with her skirt hiked up around her thighs and just get mesmerized by the rhythm of her feet on the treadles and the graceful stretch of muscles in her calves.It really is something else.

 

One o’clock rolls around and Patrick looks around his stand.It’s a bit emptier than when he got there this morning, so that’s a good sign.He still has to pack it all back up, though.

 

Patrick shoves the last box into his truck and heads back over to get ice cream.It’s become tradition amongst the market vendors to get ice cream at the end of the day.It’s not really a tradition Patrick is willing to argue about.Ice cream is always a good thing.And as the shop is actually a real shop there in the Haymarket, its air conditioned, which is also always a good thing after a day spent outside.

 

The boys from across the way are all in the shop by the time Patrick gets there.They are all a bit younger than he is, and hang out together, and are all so adorable he can hardly stand it.Jon reaches out to shake his hand companionably, and out of the corner of his eye Patrick can see Spencer stiffen and squint in his general direction.They both laugh when Patrick pulls his hand back, chocolatey.And then Brendon crashes into him, dragging along poor, mistreated Ryan.Patrick notes that not only is Brendon absolutely coated in chocolate, but he is also sporting a swipe of accidental color across his cheekbone.Patrick raises his eyebrow questioningly, and Brendon actually blushes. _Well, then_.

 

Ryan breaks away to speak to Spencer, who is studying the menu marquee as if it hasn’t been the same since 1900.Jon and Brendon approach the counter, and when Patrick turns to follow them he bumps into someone else who just came in.Settling his hat more firmly on his head, Patrick looks up into the eyes of Honey Stick Guy.

 

“Hi!”

 

“Um, hi.Wow, you’re still here?It’s been, like—I mean, I didn’t…Excuse me.”Patrick stammers, and he can see Joe and Andy coming in the shop just over the guy’s shoulder.“You stopped by my stand this morning.Do you set up here too?”

 

“Oh, no.I went home shortly after I met _you_ ,” he smiles a little, and _oh crap_ , but doesn’t that just make Patrick’s blood run hot.“But then my mom called, and blah, blah, blah, she wanted corn.So now I’m back.And the corn guys are gone already.”

 

“Um, yeah.They leave when they sell out, so you usually have to get here a little early for that.”Patrick scratches at his head, which is a neat trick, through a hat.

 

“Huh.Well, now I’m consoling myself with ice cream.”

 

“Good call.”Patrick gives himself a point for managing to start a statement minus a fumble, and grins.Another point.

 

“I just realized,” the guy says, eyes downcast for a second, lashes sweeping.“That I’ve been very rude.We haven’t actually met.My name’s Pete.”

 

Patrick looks down at his hands and hurriedly wipes chocolate off on his pants.Pete watches him silently with a bit of a smirk on his face.Patrick has no choice but to present a slightly sticky palm.

 

“Patrick.”He can feel their skin literally peeling back apart and is vaguely mortified. _Note to self:kill Jon.And possibly Brendon_.

 

“ _Patrick_.Now we’re friends,” says Pete in a conspiratorial tone.Patrick blushes.

 

Everyone packed in the ice cream parlor like they are, Patrick is amazed that they all actually get served and that nobody ends up with a scoop of something in their lap.Other than Brendon, but that’s pretty much par for the course.Patrick can’t hang back and scan the crowd like he usually does, what with Pete trying to talk to him in a low tone of voice and casting those eyes at him while simultaneously interjecting comments into other conversations just like he was meant to be there.Patrick really just doesn’t know what to do with himself.His cone keeps dripping all over because he feels dirty licking on it while Pete is looking at him.Of course, Pete just keeps smirking at him and chooses a particularly quiet moment to just shove his entire cone in his mouth.

 

Patrick thinks he does an admirable job of not choking on anything.Himself, Patrick.  Because _damn_.Pete licks the traces of ice cream from his lips and cocks an eyebrow at Patrick.He seems suddenly less innocent than honey and ice cream; more like dark alleys and sweat-soaked skin.

 

Patrick’s cone drips on the floor.

 

Pete leans into his space.

 

“Do you have any plans for this afternoon?”

 

“I have to take the truck back to the shop, but after that…” Patrick is startled into complete disclosure, and before he can come up with anything, Pete sways closer and bumps his shoulder.

 

“Good.”And he does that coy eyelash thing again.“I think you and I should…”

 

“Get out of here?” suggests Patrick.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Patrick points out the window.

 

“My truck’s over there.”

  



End file.
